Black and White
by A Raven's Call
Summary: Mac Taylor once saw the world in black and white. Now…not so much. It's become so disjointed that Mac begins to only see in crimson red. JAC.
1. Disjointed

**Black and White**

**Chapter 1: Disjointed**

* * *

I watched Season 1 to Season 9 (courtesty of my library, Amazon, and Spring Break). I desperately want a Season 10 so CSI: NY can have a proper closing with the writers giving the finale a huge plot twist that somehow eliminates Christine from the picture and makes my sinking ship canon... While I'm dreaming, I also want a pony.

Slightly AU with Christine never coming into the picture and...well you'll find out the rest.

Please enjoy!

* * *

In the marines, Mac Taylor's world was colored in night-vision green while being married to Claire was like seeing color for the first time. After Claire's death, Mac saw the world in black and white, cold and grueling and painfully empty. Then he met Jo Danville and Mac began to see in color once again. But now, as he frantically tried to stop the steady gush of blood with his fingers, his newly awakened world was drowning in a sea of red.

"_I need you," Mac told Jo, reaching out to cover her hand with his own. _

_She, through the haze of pain, looked up from the cold pavement to give him a comforting smile, but her brown eyes were sad. Jo's fingers rubbed circles into the back of his hand, her brown eyes tired, her cheeks becoming more and more wan._

"_I know." Jo laughed weakly. "I need you too." _

He saw the unknown perpetrator fire at them, gun blazing red in the night. Heard Jo cry out and push him down onto the wet pavement. Saw the small trickle of blood drop from Jo's mouth.

Remembered – dreamt – remembered – fumbling for his gun and loading it, remembered – dreamt – remembered hearing the reassuring click of the trigger and seeing Jo doing the same. The two pushing themselves up and aiming at the son of a bitch who was doing this…

_He clenched her hand more tightly. "You're going to be fine, Jo."_

"_We both know that's not going to happen," Jo said wryly. "I have intensive internal bleeding and the bullet—"_

"_Don't." Mac cut her off, unable to listen to it anymore. "You're not going to die, Jo."_

_She gave him a wry grin. "But everyone does, Mac."_

"_You're not supposed to," Mac whispered, cradling her head in his lap. _

–then the sound of gunfire and sudden stabbing rush of pain and the screams of people as they fell to the pavement bleeding –

–and the fury. How dare they, how could they and-

_There was blood, so much blood, and some part of him was praying to an indifferent God from above to just save her – please – because in three years, this woman had become his entire world. If only he could stop this pain- _

–and he saw more blood, more shots creeping together as the rain began to fall, felt the steady thrum of Jo's heart against his. If he could only push himself up and get a clean shot… and -

– he shouted – did he shout? - "Drop the gun!" –

–and then Gunfire –lots of gunfire: his, Jo's, and the perp's- was the only response –

"_You're supposed to live to a ripe old age of a hundred, spending the rest of your life with your handsome hunk of a husband—"_

_Jo playfully rolled her eyes, weakly punching him in the shoulder. "Oh dear Lord."_

"–_and your beautiful grandkids and your family at the NYPD Crime Lab. And by the time you die at a hundred years old, your husband's going to have died the day before, so he'll never have to live a day without you." _

"_You know," Jo pointed out, "you could just die a second before I do or both of us die in our sleep so I wouldn't have to live without you. Better yet—"_

"_Jo." He leaned down to gently pressed his lips to hers, effectively silencing her. Mac pulled her close, reveling in the warmth of her skin, the uneven rise and fall of her chest, and her soft lavender scent tinged with metallic copper. She was still alive, if only barely, and Mac knew that she wouldn't be here with him for very long. _

–And the world began to tilt out of proportion as Jo pushed him down out of the line of fire –

-And there was blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers to fall to the ground, blood that wasn't his-

–but _hers_, and when he realized that all he could see was red-

–and suddenly it didn't matter if the asshole got away. That his worst nightmare was coming to life–

"_Mac," she murmured, winding her mouth next to his ear, "I'm going to miss this. Maybe not this so much." Jo gestured to the flashing lights of the ambulance and police cars and the injured perp. She turned to nuzzle her head in his lap, her hand working its way up to gently brush his face. "But this. Working with you." _

_He opened his mouth to reply, but she pressed a mischievous finger to his lips, winking in a very Jo-esque style. "I think what you do is amazing. I wanted to tell you that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Mac Taylor. I just thought I'd let you know that."_

-and his mouth moved on its own accord, his hands turning her over to look for her injuries, fingers scrambling to stop the blood. "JO! JO! JO! Goddamnit! Don't you dare die! Don't you dare die!"-

-and she whispered something that made him remember who he was, refocused him, but the pain in his heart and in his head was coming to a fever pitch –

–and he was losing himself and her in a field of red and he couldn't, wouldn't be able to stop it if he started and-

"_Jo, I—"_

_He barely got the words out when she was gone with her last smile etched on her face._

Detective Mac Taylor woke up screaming here. Chest heaving, he turned over to the side of the bed, frantically searching for her beside him. Mac sighed in relief as he draped his arm over the other figure on the bed, pressing his face to let the scent of lavender submerge his senses.

"Jo," he murmured, running his hand through her whisper hair. She muttered something unintelligible as she tangled herself more in his arms and the sheets, nuzzled his chest, and promptly went back to sleep.

Smiling, Mac followed suit.

* * *

Sorry about the semi-violence/disjointedness. It's meant to be that way and you'll understand once you hit Chapter 2.

Thanks for reading!

Reviews –both signed and unsigned - for constructive criticisms, compliments, and comments are appreciated! Please, if you have a few seconds in your day, just comment in that cute little box in the corner of the screen and write your opinion into it!

I'd be honored and delighted to hear it!


	2. Shift

******Black and White**

******Chapter 2: Shift**

* * *

Hi everyone! I'm back! Thanks for the response. I'm really honored by the reception. Special thanks to Quille, Dark Wings Of Imagination, cornish pasties, UrbanMuse, EyesOutOfTheWindow, tlh45, kazzyj, SinginPrincess for the helpful reviews and support!

Hopefully, this chapter will answer some of the questions caused in Chapter 1. Pardon any more confusion it causes.

Warnings: Mild Cursing and a few innuendos and a bit of fluff.

Please enjoy!

* * *

When Mac woke up, he was alone in the bed. The smell of pancakes and cinnamon from the kitchen told that Jo probably had woken up early to give Ellie a proper send off to her final day of middle school. Ellie had been hinting how she wanted to have pancakes topped with whipped cream and drowned in butter honeyed maple syrup for the longest time; today it seemed that Jo was willing to indulge her.

He loved these mornings where time seemed to stand still and everything seemed right and the three of them were just a perfect American family just enjoying a normal morning. There were no cases or crimes, just love, family, and lots of Southern comfort food.

It was mornings like these he lived for – the reminders of the things he now had because Jo entered his life. Instead of cold, stony silence and cereal, he had them, and Mac smiled as the sound of his two favorite girls laughing broke the sleepy, cinnamon filled morning.

"You're up," Jo greeted cheerfully as Mac trudged into the kitchen in his pajamas, disheveled and still wiping the sleep from his eyes. She expertly flipped another pancake onto a waiting plate, shooting him a brilliant smile. "Go sit down. I'll get you your plate."

"Are you sure?" Mac opened his mouth to protest further, but she kissed him and effectively cut him off. His hand instinctively slipped down to rest in the small of her back, pulling her closer. "Why would I do that when the food's right here?" he asked breathlessly.

"I don't know." Jo's hands reached up to brush the pulse point in his neck. "Because the food-"

"Mom!" Ellie groaned from the island. She covered her eyes, looking away ashamedly. "I thought that you promised you two wouldn't do that old fogy hanky panky in front of me!"

"Ellie," Jo warned teasingly, "I didn't say anything when I saw you and Tim Porter-"

"MOM!" Ellie squealed, nearly dropping her plate in her haste to try and cover her mother's mouth. "You said you would never mention that again!"

"Did I?" Jo feigned blissful ignorance. "I must have forgotten."

"MOM!"

"Ellie," Mac cut in, "hurry up and finish your pancakes or else you'll miss the bus."

"Can't you two drive me?" Ellie gave him her best puppy dog face. His heart almost melted at the pleading expression, but the thought of Jo doing it _—_her liquid brown eyes quietly beseeching him and her pink lips curved in an adorable pout_— _made Ellie's pale in comparison.

"You know that's not going to work," Mac said, affectionately pinching Ellie's cheek. "It only works when your mom does it."

"Too bad. That face almost gets me anything at school," Ellie sighed, stabbing her pancakes with a little more gusto. "It's depressing that my mom is so much better at it than I am."

Jo planted a kiss on Ellie's forehead. "It's called experience, kiddo."

Ellie gave her a skeptical look before returning to her pancakes. "Uh huh." She winked at Mac. "I think it has to do more with being sex on legs."

"Ellie!" Jo swatted at her playfully, but Ellie was too fast and already gone by the time Jo's hand had descended.

As Mac and Ellie returned their attention to the waiting stacks of golden brown pancakes, he felt his eyes wander back to Jo. She was bustling around putting away the ingredients and various dishes, humming a country tune he didn't know. In the morning sunlight, she had never looked more beautiful, and Mac didn't know what he would do with his life if she weren't in it. The nightmare popped back into his mind, but he pushed the thought away to focus more in his pancakes.

Mac pulled Jo's hand, tugging her to the table. "Come sit with us. You don't have to wash the dishes yet."

"The dishes won't do themselves, Mac."

"We can do them later. Just the two of us."

"The two of us?" She raised an eyebrow, a wry smile creeping onto her face. "Is that a proposition?"

"It is if you want it to be." Mac winked. "I can promise you it would be worth the wait."

"All right Mac Taylor, you've sold me on that idea." Jo kissed the tip of his nose. "But I'm holding you to it."

"Naturally."

Jo stretched languidly, settling in the seat beside Mac, and rested her head on his shoulder. She cast a sideways look at the clock. "Ellie." She nodded, tilting her head toward the door.

"I know. I know." Ellie absently adjusted her bangles, nervously playing with the curls of her ebony hair. She glanced at her mother uncertainly. "Mom, do I_—_"

"You look beautiful, sweet pea," Jo laughed. "If anyone says anywise, I'll sic Mac on them."

Mac mock glared at her. "Jo."

She spiritedly threw her hands up in the air. "I'm just kidding!"

When Ellie's attention was diverted, Mac made an inquiring gesture. _What's that all about?_

_'Almost boyfriend,'_ Jo mouthed.

He nodded in understanding, tilting his head to silently inquire how long that this had been going on. Her fingers flashed a two, and Mac almost laughed aloud. Ellie had a gentleman caller for almost two days without his notice. He must be getting up in his years, but it was more likely Ellie displaying Jo's ability to conceal secrets in plain sight.

He still hadn't figured Jo out completely. At least not yet. Mac doubted she even knew where the real her began anymore after everything the two had been through. But she was still Jo Danville, still the Jo he fell in love with. Just like he was still the Mac Taylor she adored.

"So, are you going to work today, dad?" Ellie asked between licks on her now maple-syrup and whipped cream covered plate.

"Yeah," he replied, his mouth now full of sugar and pancakes. Mac caught Jo's disapproving stare and knew she wasn't upset about him talking with his mouth full. He changed the subject quickly, eager to divert Jo's attention elsewhere. "You've got a bit of whipped cream on the top of your lip, sweetheart."

"Movie night's still on though?" Ellie licked off her whipped cream mustache, looking expectantly at her mother.

"Why Ellie Danville," Jo said, pretending shock, "I thought you'd want to go out partying with your friends instead of hanging out with us old fogies."

"They still think it's weird that I want to go out to a party with them." Ellie shrugged indifferently. "Whatever. They're loss. I think it's going to be more fun sitting on the sofa with you guys eating popcorn and pizza and drinking soda and watching television 'til I'm sick."

"From the television or the food?" Mac laughed.

Ellie quipped, "Neither. From you two lovebirds."

Jo was about to crack a joke but a glance at the clock cut her plans short. "The _bus_ Ellie." Jo gently shoved her in the direction of the door. "You don't want to be late for the last day of middle school."

"_Everyone's_ gonna be late, mom."

Jo jabbed her finger at the door. "Skoot!"

"But mom!"

"Don't but mom me!"

Mac watched the two of them volley back and forth like a tennis match, an amused smile alight on his face. His only regret was not having popcorn to go along with this live action movie.

"Mac!" Ellie turned to him, eyes begging him for help. "Please?"

"Why don't I drive you to school?" he offered, already knowing he was going to get an earful from Jo once Ellie left for the bus. Dropping her off would at least give him some time to compose himself before Jo brought up her irritatingly (and infallibly) logical arguments.

"Mac," Jo started, but at the entreating looks on both of their faces, she relented. "Fine. You two better getting cracking though. School starts in thirty minutes, and there's always traffic."

Ellie eagerly scrambled from the island. "On it, mom!"

Jo shook her head in resigned exasperation. "You spoil her."

He wound a hand around her hip, kissing his way up to her mouth. "And you don't?"

"This conversation isn't over, you know," she whispered. Her fingertips grazed the nape of his neck, eliciting a small, throaty gasp from him. "No matter how good of a kisser you are, Mac Taylor, I'm still going to get everything off your chest."

"I know." His mouth nibbled her lip lightly before hungrily kissing her, and he drowned in a dizzy haze of feeling as her hands traced his collarbone. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

After sending Ellie off to school, he and Jo headed out in the Avalanche to go to the lab. His temporary heaven covered in butter honeyed maple syrup had gone with the wind as reality set in. The high-cholesterol morning had already become a thing of the distant past, the sugary stacks of pancakes replaced with his kit and his girls' laughter swapped for the cacophony of a normal New York street. In the standstill traffic, Jo struck, all too aware he was hers for the entire ride to the lab.

"You don't have to go in today," Jo pointed out as he stopped for a red light. "No one's expecting you to go back for another week or so."

Mac drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I don't see why I shouldn't go back."

"That case is still ongoing. You know what everyone's going to think now that you're back. You'd want to be in on it, and then..." She trailed off, concern marring her beautiful face. "I'd be so_—_""

"I'm staying off that case, Jo."

She replied in a tone that made him certain she didn't believe him. "_Of course_ you are." Jo reached out to skim her fingertips across his hand. "You're abnormally warm," Jo murmured softly, running a freezing hand across his forehead. He shivered, feeling the goose bumps rise on his tender flesh. "I think you have a fever."

"I'm fine, Jo." Mac backtracked as fast as he could, all too aware this might be like the milk and cookies and Don incident if he didn't play his cards right. He leaned forward to kiss her, to reassure her and tell her how much he loved her, but she held him back, her brown eyes crinkling with concern.

"And you had that nightmare again last night," she added worriedly. "Are you all right?"

He glared at her. "I've been cleared, and…" Mac stole a quick peck on her lips. "You of all people should know that I'm doing great."

"If you were doing so great…" Jo pointed forward. "You'd have noticed you have to put the pedal to the metal."

Shaking his head in amusement, Mac urged the now roaring Avalanche past the green light. "You could have warned me, you know."

She managed a weak smile. "I was too busy fussing over you."

He kept his eyes on the road, his smile unfaltering. "I know."

Jo glanced at him. "I'm worried about you, Mac. Ever since the bridge. Ever since…"

She didn't finish that sentence, didn't have the strength to say it, and Mac was grateful. He didn't want to be reminded of that low point either.

"I know." Mac reached over to rub circles in the back of her hand. The unspoken words between them become tangible, and Mac was relieved when she turned her hand to give him a comforting squeeze. "I know. We'll get through this, Jo."

She knew that the two of them could easily clear this hurdle, but they weren't out of the woods yet. This was Jo for God's sake, and she wouldn't dismiss this uncertainty until the barely perceptible fear – that loaded shotgun in the back of his mind – disappeared completely.

He knew he still had that gun locked up and stored – out of sight but not out of mind. Mac didn't know if it ever would because a life without her was like living a year without rain. He already knew how it would go down if she ever went away, like she nearly did last time.

The first few months into the drought weren't bad (those were somehow livable), but as time went on, the emptiness didn't pass and the desert seemed to go on forever until there was no more water to waste for tears and no point to continue living. Eventually – if he was lucky– a bolt of lightning would strike the land, and a wildfire would rage until everything burned, burned, burned.

And he'd laugh, feel the relief. And he'd join her in whatever mystery lay in the afterlife.

But he was luckier than he could have ever imagined.

She came back and saved him.

"Jo…" Mac began uncertainly.

She looked up from the files she had recently nabbed from his briefcase. "Hmmm?"

"I love you."

Jo barely withheld a small chuckle. "I know. I love you too."

"Don't ever change."

"You know I can't." She gazed out of the windshield longingly. "Not anymore."

"You know what I mean." Jo turned to allow brown eyes to meet blue. His eyes reflected more things than words could ever say, and he knew she knew and that was all he needed.

Jo smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Okay."

* * *

Though he didn't see Jo for most of the day, the day passed in a rush of welcome backs, closed cases, and logged evidence. It was a normal day at the NYPD Crime Lab, and yet a specter of something darker seemed to hang over the people working there. The normal quips and witticisms had become scarce, especially in Mac's presence, while smiles lacked their usual genuineness and brilliance. There was something unrelenting and determined — cold steel fresh from the hottest fire — in the way that Lab Techs and Detectives analyzed the evidence.

Mac knew it had to do with their only currently unsolved case. It hurt that it was damaging _his _lab — _his _friends, _his _people, and _his _home away from home — and there was nothing he could do about it.

Other than that, though, he couldn't have asked for an easier day to come back to the Lab. After assisting in closing the active cases he could work on, Mac felt it was more productive to go back home for a movie night and "wash the dishes" with Jo.

Turning the corner, he nearly crashed into one of the newer Lab Techs, his jaw nearly dropping from his mouth as he saw the state of his office. After muttering his apologies, Mac could only stop and stare at the ruins of his once pristine bureau.

His office space was built to withstand pretty powerful storms, but the architect of the building didn't prepare this poor workplace to survive the onslaught of a supernatural, off-the-chart Hurricane Jo.

In the wreckage of his once Spartan office, neon colored post-it flowers and scattered white document leaves popped up in wake of Nature's destruction. Though his computer screen was thankfully devoid of post-it notes, the frightful beasts had taken over his television as Jo began to use more and more to leave him reminders and helpful hints for the cases the two worked on together and comments about life in general. Odd, but certainly not out of character. Casually slipping in, he closed the blinds to his office.

"Everyone must think that I've caught your post-it note obsession, Jo," Mac groaned, throwing his feet up on the desk. He mock glared at the woman curled up on his office's couch with various documents and pictures of cold cases strewn at her feet, barely withholding his amusement.

"I know you secretly like my post-its, Mac Taylor," Jo laughed, shuffling through the mess of papers. "You'd think something was wrong if I stopped using them. Besides, we had a deal."

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep them off my desk and the little neon monsters can stay." He joined her on the couch, sighing. "I miss the days where I could buy a burger and a beer to make you be quiet."

She giggled, rubbing her nose to his. "I think you prefer having me as your wife."

"Most days," Mac said teasingly, pressing his chin into the nape of her neck. "I can never stand it when you make this place a mess."

She playfully glared at him and rapped his knuckles with her free hand. Her other hand sauntered up his shirt until it wrapped around Mac's trademark tie. Yanking the silk so his face was level with hers, Jo throatily whispered in his ear. "You know you love me, mess and all."

"Tease," Mac accused, his breath catching in his throat. "We're at work, you know."

"Mmm." Jo trailed kisses from his cheek to the corner of his mouth. Mac was fading into the sensation of her cold hands and nails dragging down his skin. He placed butterfly kisses to the corner of her mouth, his hands moving down to cup her waist before sliding lower to rest in the small of her back.

"You're unbelievable," he murmured.

Jo pulled herself into his lap, sensuously winding her arms behind his neck. "Am I?"

He chuckled. "You're being awfully unprofessional, Detective Danville."

She shrugged, an easy smile gracing her features. "What can I say? A certain Detective makes me forget all those silly rules and regulations."

"Well, I'll tell you what happens to _naughty_ detectives who-"

"Mac?" Adam called nervously from the doorway, breaking Mac's train of thought. Mac's head shot up, his face flushing a scarlet red. "Are you feeling okay?"

"What?" Mac snapped, irritated that the mood was broken. He stared daggers at the gaping Adam. "I'm feeling _fine_."

Adam looked like he was about to argue and say something deep and meaningful (something Mac didn't have the time or patience for right now), but under Mac's glare, he just gulped the words down and stuttered out a half-baked clarification. "You were talking to yourself. I mean, that's the first sign of madness, and-"

"I was talking to myself about the case," Mac explained patiently.

Adam hesitated, shuffling his feet. "We don't have any cases right now, Mac. Or at least any cases you can work on. And I don't know any naughty—"

Mac barely contained the urge to face palm or cringe; he settled with his usual poker face and prayed Adam wouldn't notice the blush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

"—detectives on our team."

"Oh." _Shit. _Mac was at a loss for words, shifting uncomfortably on the leather of the couch as he was all too aware of Adam's blatant stare. He began to reorganize the jumbled sheaf of papers to buy time, stacking them exactly how Jo liked them. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"Big surprise," Jo muttered. She pointed at the door. "Forget about those papers. It's time to go home."

Mac threw her a withering glare. "Oh be quiet."

Adam pointed at himself, face scrunched together in confusion. "I wasn't talking, boss."

Mac cringed. "I wasn't talking to you. I was…" He searched for the any excuse and was relieved when Jo began to write a cover story on a stray sticky note just out of Adam's line of sight. "I was just doing what the doctor ordered. My psychologist suggested I make an effort to try to think aloud in order to open up to my family and friends."

"You have a crazy shrink," Adam commented with a raised eyebrow.

"Tell me about it." Mac quipped, "I don't think she even has a doctorate–"

"I do too!" Jo protested vehemently.

He enjoyed the utterly outraged and scandalized expression on Jo's face, planning to continue while the iron was still hot. Mac continued on without missing a beat, "And she does a lot more flirting than she does actually psychoanalyzing me. It's flattering and all, but she honestly really isn't my type. It's kind of sad that she's trying so hard, considering I'm married."

Jo punched his shoulder, shaking her head in disbelief. "Mac Taylor! I never!"

If they were alone, Mac would have draped an arm over her or kissed her senseless (or done both if he was feeling really feisty) before pushing her into a secluded spot to show her how much he appreciated her psychology sessions. But they had company, so the tantalizing idea of doing that was thrown out the window. He could only shoot her a coy, little smile, and she rolled her eyes in response. Jo mouthed '_You're terrible'_ and Mac, when Adam's attention was diverted, mouthed a smug '_I know'_ back.

"I'd almost pay to sit in one of your sessions," Adam chuckled. His eyes darted to Mac's smiling, easy going face as if trying to analyze what the heck was going through his boss's mind. Mac noticed (and he was sure Jo noticed and knew why), but he was in too good of a mood to dwell on it much.

"That would be like watching porn," Jo pointed out, deadpanned, and Mac nearly busted a rib trying not to laugh. As Adam turned to the door, completely ignorant of the conversation going on behind his back, Mac caught Jo's exasperated gaze and winked. The sound of her laughter permeated the office, causing his face to broaden into a brilliant grin.

"Anyway," Adam mumbled, evidently disconcerted by his boss's behavior, "just checking up on you. I mean… after… after that… incident…" He looked down at his feet, his blue eyes filled with a layer of sadness. "I know I wouldn't be fine. And you just got back from leave and everything… and…"

Mac took the younger man on the shoulder. "Adam."

Jaded stormy blue eyes meet the usually playful now serious navy eyes. And the words burst from the Lab Tech like water rushing out from a broken dam. "I just wanted to let you know," Adam confided, "that if you never need to talk, we're all willing to lend an ear."

Mac grinned, patting him on the back. "Thanks, Adam. It means a lot coming from you." He meant those words from the bottom of his heart, feeling a rush of gratitude toward the entire team.

Then he lied through his teeth and did his best to ignore Jo's disappointed gaze on him. "I plan to do that. Good night, Adam."

"Night." Adam turned to walk away, pausing to give Mac one last fleeting, pitiful look before heading toward the elevator and out of sight.

Jo draped her arm around Mac's shoulder, exhaling in mild frustration. "You're not going to talk to them, are you."

It was not a question; it was a statement, and Jo had made it without being overly judgmental. She disapproved of his reliance in her but only because she was afraid of the 'what if' and the unknown variables. Mac knew how Jo felt about being his and Ellie's sole pillar of emotional support, knew from those long pillow talk conversations and candlelit discussion about how tenuous her grip on this world was and how easily she could slip away from them.

"Why would I confide in them," Mac pointed out, "if I can confide in my personal psychologist instead?"

"Because you need to be prepared for a life where I'm not in it." Jo absently traced meaningless patterns onto his skin. She added softly, "You almost lost me once."

"But I'm never going to lose you again." Mac ran his hand through her silky hair.

Jo dramatically sighed. "It is rather difficult to lose someone when they're dead."

"You're not dead yet," he fervently said. "You can't be if you're still here."

"Point." Jo curled her chin into the crook of his collarbone. "But I'm much closer to being dead than you ever will be."

"It doesn't matter. I will always love you. In any shape or form. Living or dead. You will be the only one."

"An actual, living—" She couldn't even get another word edgewise (and formally voice the doubts he already knew existed) because he passionately smashed their lips together her. He pressed kiss after kiss to her face until he knew she believed him and he successfully kissed her insecurities away.

"You are the only woman I need, Jo. I'll never look at anyone else in the same way I look at you – with or without you in my life. The only person my heart wants is you."

"What do you tell the team about trusting their heads and not their hearts?"

"But love isn't like a crime scene, Jo," Mac said with a grin. "It can't be properly processed by the head or the heart. It just is."

Jo looked up into his eyes, her freezing fingers absently playing with his tie. This time she believed him, he knew, and the matter would be over for the time being. Jo knew he wouldn't budge on the subject and let him win this battle.

Knowing her though, she'd probably win the war.

This argument would probably follow them, like an accursed specter, back to their apartment and into movie night and into bed and into the future, but he mustn't' think of such things. So he ignored the rational part of his brain that screamed he ought to talk this out with Jo and leaned forward to gently kiss her.

After a split second (where Mac knew she had made her decision), Jo kissed him back.

* * *

They spend the rest of the night with Ellie watching that dreadful new C.S.I. show where murders were solved in two days, pristine evidence was collected every single time, and fingerprints and DNA was processed within days instead of the general month or so. In spite of the constant commenting on the unrealistic crimes, the three of them had a blast bantering with each other, doing Horatio Caine impressions, and gorging themselves on popcorn, soda, and pizza until they're stuffed.

Ellie managed to stumble to her bedroom at one a.m. (but not after cheekily reminding them teasingly to keep it down for the rest of the night). Jo had laughed and told her to go to bed. She seemed to have let their earlier disagreement slide, and Mac figured if he really played his cards right, he could probably attempt to finish what he had started in the kitchen. But as tempting as coming to collect his offer from this morning, it would do him no good to try and cash it in now. Jo would get down to business and _then play_.

He didn't mind. Mac expected nothing less from the woman he fell in love with.

As the silence became overwhelming, thick and uncomfortable, Mac knew Jo was debating her line of attack. He used her momentary distraction to make the first move, wrapping his arms around her waist. Mac held her tight, squeezing her tightly and wishing things could still be like they used to be. He missed hearing the steady thrum of her heart, missed her human warmth, but Mac didn't mind still having her.

It was a fair trade, he supposed, to lose and win at the same time. Mac still had her; that was all that really mattered to him.

"I don't want you to go. Ever." Mac let his breath tickle her ear, his voice low and husky. "We could work, Jo."

Her eyes softened slightly but they were still sad. "But for how long?"

He let out a playful huff. "Must you be so pragmatic?"

"Only when you're not going to be."

"But, we could have a life we two." Mac rested his forehead on hers, relishing the way her touch left a burning trail of cold on his skin. "Maybe not like you remember. Maybe not like I imagined. But we could get by."

She blinked a few times, disoriented, before she smacked him playfully. "Of all things, of all times, why Sweeney Todd?"

"Life is for the alive, my dear," Mac said with a broad grin spreading across his face. "So let's keep living it."

She groaned, "We are never watching that damn musical again. It was a mistake to watch it on Broadway with you last Halloween."

"Well, there's always the movie I could probably convince Ellie to watch with us."

"After she had nightmares watching Paranormal Activity?" Jo huffed, crossing her arms. "_Never_."

The heaviness in the atmosphere was gone, replaced by the good-natured teasing native to their conversations. She noticed and moaned, throwing her hands up around his neck, as she realized he had manipulated her.

"You're terrible, Mac Taylor," she murmured into his shirt.

Mac snuggled into her, twining his fingers in her hair. "Well, you're cold."

"I'm supposed to be. I'm—"

"I didn't mean it in that way." He paused, letting the comment sink in. Mac continued softly, "Do you really want to leave me so soon? Is the afterlife really that tempting?"

Her voice was muffled by her face pressing against his chest. "No."

"Then why do you want me to let you go so soon?" he asked. "We could work, Jo. I know we could work, and you know it too. And that's why you're so quick to deny it."

She hesitated, "I…"

"You want to stay, but you're afraid."

"For you." Jo grasped his shirt more tightly, her knuckles turning white. "I'm afraid for you."

"Not yourself?" Mac pressed, brow furrowed in confusion.

"No. You're the reason why I came back." She gestured around the room. "These past few days, you seemed great. I thought today would have been…you know…a…a goodbye."

Suddenly it made sense: the breakfast, her desire for him to not go to work, the post-it notes on his television, the constant bickering about whether she should stay or go. It was all leading up to this.

Jo continued quietly, "You didn't seem to really need me anymore. You and Ellie can get on fine without me. I planned to go back to that waiting line once morning comes after I said good bye to Ellie and Tyler. They already told me it was fine if I passed on. The only person I didn't tell was…"

The word was constricted in the back of his windpipe as he forced it out. "Me."

His heart felt like it was being squeezed out of his chest, his lungs becoming deprived of oxygen. He suddenly couldn't breathe, couldn't think. His senses had become drenched in crimson, the colors of the room to spin as everything became dyed in black, white, and blood red.

Was she—could she—would she—

—no—that was impossible—she would never—could never—Jo wouldn't leave him—not now—not ever—

—not when he needed her more than life itself—loved her—adored her—he couldn't—if she was gone—like his biggest fear come to life —

"Today was supposed to be my last day," Jo continued, "but—"

Mac brusquely interrupted, trembling, "When it comes time for you to go, I'll follow you."

Jo blinked. Once. Twice. "Mac…"

"I swear I will Jo," he said unwaveringly. "I almost did it once. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"_Don't_," she hushed, her fingers gracing his neck with spidery fluidity. "I was about to say before you cut me off that I decided against leaving. You still need time to heal. I'm going to stay, but don't _ever_ say that again. Do you hear me Mac Taylor?"

And suddenly he could breathe again, feel the steady rush of air to his lungs. Mac gasped for air, pulling her closer as he tried to calm his ragged gasps for air.

"I'm sorry," Mac whispered. And he was sorry, sorry he had managed to lose her, hurt her, and fail her just as he had done with Claire. But Mac was selfish (he was human after all) and that small human portion of him only needed one thing – her.

"I know I'm selfish. You're better off in the afterlife and waiting for me." He desperately tried to make her understand, make her see the reasoning to his madness. One look into her deep brown eyes and Mac knew she knew.

"Mac," she murmured. "Life is for the alive, not for ghosts like me."

He opened his mouth, but she placed a finger on his lips.

"If you had been the one to die, I'd be feeling the same way. I could never live with myself if I completely lost you too. I'd want to hang on to whatever I had." Mac felt something freezing and wet drop onto his skin. "But one day, Mac, not today maybe or tomorrow or a few weeks from now, but one day, someday, you'll let me go."

"But not today."

"Give it time, Mac."

"I did," he replied fiercely.

She glared at him. "You gave yourself less than two weeks."

"Because the heart wants what the heart wants," Mac quoted. "There's no logic or reasoning to these kinds of things. You fall in love with someone so brilliant and beautiful and wonderful, and you never want to let them go."

Jo rubbed her temple blearily. "You let Claire go."

"Because I fell in love with you." Mac's fingers lingered on her cheek, tenderly rolling down her neck to play the hem of her top.

"I know," Jo whispered. Her hand stopped him from rolling her shirt up. "I know how hard it was for you, but you managed to move on. You can do the same with me. It just takes time. I'll wait until you're ready to let me go."

Mac buried his face into her shoulder, inhaling her lavender scent. "I'll just never let you go then, Jo."

"You will. Everybody does," Jo murmured, "and then I can rest easily in the afterlife."

"Or you can just wait here until I die and meet me there," Mac suggested.

She shook her head, teasingly pinching his cheek. "Mac Taylor!"

He coyly smiled up at her. Jo gave him a grin back.

"We'll be like the horizon," Mac offered. "We'll never end."

She replied sagely with the air a person who have died once can only have. "One day we'll end. All humans do."

Mac dragged his lips across her skin, running his hands through her beautiful brown hair. "But we won't today."

"No," Jo agreed. Her hand crept up his arm to touch his face then began unbuttoning his shirt. "Not today. Not tonight."

* * *

Tonight, she would cash in on his offer from this morning, and they would meld together and wash away today's fears. After gasping for breath on their sheets, Mac would look back to see that they had only shifted the date of his decision to let her go. In the haze of euphoria and bliss, Mac only knew two things: that he loves her more than all the stars in the sky and that he wants her to stay more than anything else in the world.

(_He wouldn't change this life for the world. He was happy; he was content. She was all he needed._)

The underlying issue still existed though (it would for as long as Jo stayed with him) and still remained an unsolved cold case Mac was afraid to reopen.

_(He knew she wouldn't push the issue any more than she had. She had made her statement, told him how she felt, and now she would wait until he was ready. She was patient, he knew, and would wait for him forever — even if it took him a thousand years to finally come to terms with her departure.)_

But cold cases didn't always have to be solved, did they? Sometimes they went for years and years without an answer. Sometimes they never were solved at all.

Tonight, they would forget it all and just be two people so young and so in love.

(_He wouldn't open that file. He couldn't end their forever and create a new now. This life **was** his now.)_

Tonight, they both would be alive, and that was enough.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

I hope this clarifies the situation a bit better... Then again it raises a lot more questions than it answers (I apologize most profusely for this). That was awfully fun writing though. The arguement between Ellie and Jo sounds like my house in the morning. The only difference is that I don't have a Mac to give me a ride to school... :(

Loved it? Hated it? Confused? Utterly indifferent? If so, just take the time to type in your feelings in that cute little box below this author's note.

Thank you all for your support!


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